


The Smell of Coffee

by LastFadingSmile



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastFadingSmile/pseuds/LastFadingSmile





	The Smell of Coffee

“The smell of coffee,” she said suddenly, glancing thoughtfully up from the report she had been studying, as if it had been the subject of some deep and careful contemplation.

             “Say what?” came the confused reply.

             “The smell of coffee,” she repeated, a little louder, as if the problem had been one of volume and not mere understanding. “You asked me once what my favourite thing about this lifestyle is. That’s the thing.”

             He tossed aside the datapad he had been nursing fruitlessly for the last hour, pleased for the distraction. He reclined in his chair, arms folded across his chest; a bemused smile creeping across his lips.

             “Well, first of all, that conversation was months ago—”

             “I know, I had to think about it,” she interrupted.

             He chuckled and continued, “—and second of all: coffee? Really, Shepard? Coffee? Of _all_ of the reasons you could possibly think of for taking this job, for living this life…It’s not the thrill of exploring uncharted worlds, not the rush from the danger of the unknown…It’s not even the illicit and _breath-taking_ encounters with the dashing, exotic, _handsome_ Marines under your command. It’s none of that – it’s coffee? You don’t even like the stuff.”

             “I know.” She grinned mischievously at his feigned offence.

             “Well, at the risk of sounding wounded, you’re going to have to give me a little more context here.”

             She pushed back from the table and crossed the deck, hitting the shutter control knob as she moved to the window. The screen lifted silently, unveiling an endless view of the star-filled void. A million points of glittering light sprawled out before her, each one serving only to punctuate the emptiness that surrounded them. She leaned, with a gentle sigh, against the cold window.

             “I know, it sounds crazy. It’s just…bear with me here.” Her voice trailed off in search of clarity in her jumbled thoughts. “It smells like home, somehow. Or like what I think home should smell like. Or…shit, Kay, I don’t know how to explain it.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, her brow furrowed in bashful confusion as she struggled to organise her disorderly mind.

             He offered a genuinely sympathetic smile that told her to take her time. He loved these moments and garnered great comfort from them. These moments, those looks, were sacred, secret – her hidden vulnerability that no one else got to see. There was no pretence, no assumed persona, no iron mask. Just a woman, with the same fears and doubts, wants, needs and insecurities as anyone else.  Just a woman, perfectly imperfect, for him to console. To covet.

             “I’ve just never had a home, not really,” she started again. “Feels like I’ve always been running. This ship is the closest thing I have. And don’t get me wrong, I love this ship.” She looked at him pointedly. “The Alliance has given me more than my real family ever cared to.”

             Her eyes flickered with the embers of an anger long burned out. Any platitude he offered would be unconvincing and otherwise unwanted, and she wasn’t wrong at any rate. Her story was only uncommon insomuch as few street kids ever found the stability the Alliance had to offer. So much as it was.

             Perhaps spooked by his desperate, helpless gaze, she turned back towards the void. “It’s all so _fleeting_ , you know? Temporary. I could be transferred, or relieved of command, or it could all just…go up in flames. Hell, I’m already two for three.” She forced an ugly laugh, sad and mirthless; a deflection.

             “I get that,” he said quietly, the tenderness of his voice breaking the sudden silence and saving her from the encroaching darkness.

             “But even out here, there are constants; in the midst of all this chaos and strife, this nightmarish mess, there are constants.”

             “And that’s…coffee?”

             “Exactly.”

             Shepard turned and curled up on the end of the black leather sofa adjacent the window, her legs tucked up underneath her in her awkward way. The soles of her feet showed through in patches where her socks had worn thin, and her little toe escaped entirely through a gaping hole that threatened to swallow another digit. He made a mental note to requisition her some new ones as he got up from his armchair and moved to her side. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and smiled contentedly as she slipped into her nook. Head resting on his chest, arms around his waist; a long-missing puzzle piece finally found.

             “I’ve lost count of all of the worlds we’ve been to. So many colonies, outposts, space stations…some of them huge and well-funded, some dirty and morally bankrupt. Many of them just struggling, backwater communities with barely enough tech to even _run_ water. But that’s the thing. The one thing every human colony has in common is that warm, bitter smell of brewing coffee. Sometimes it’s cheap and dirty instant garbage stagnating in some poorly maintained vending machine. Sometimes it’s one of those quaint little retro-styled cafés with the steam machines with the big brass nozzles that scream and whistle and make a huge production out of every cup. But more often than not it’s just a single pot of some coveted blend brewing in some colonist’s kitchen, offered up as a simple strained courtesy to intrusive-but-well-intentioned spacers, even though it might be months before they get another supply. It’s the scent of civilisation, of civility. And it’s _iconic_. There’s nothing in the galaxy like real Earth coffee. It’s the very aroma of humanity. It’s just…”

             “Home,” he finished, smiling warmly.

             “Exactly.”

             He kissed the top of her head and hugged her tightly to him. They sat in perfect, comfortable silence, staring out the vastness of space, at all of the millions of nameless, faceless worlds.

             Thinking of home.


End file.
